


Signs of Light

by blackcoffeeandteardrops



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Cancer Arc, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Okay Maybe it Hurts a Little, Spoiler Alert - Freeform, The X-Files Revival, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 09:51:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12251952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffeeandteardrops/pseuds/blackcoffeeandteardrops
Summary: One shot inspired by the s11 snapshots we got last week. Scully is, yet again, in the hospital. A conversation between she and Mulder unfolds. Possible spoilers inside, although likely just speculation at this point.





	Signs of Light

Mulder sighed, cradling his head between his hands and listening to the ticking of the clock on the wall. If he listened closely, he could just barely make out the sounds of her subtle breathing. It was a sound he appreciated more than ever, even as he mulled the possibilities in his head. They’d been in this position far too many times, he and Scully, with one of them sleeping in a hospital bed and the other sitting vigilantly next to the other. He risked a glance at her sleeping form and ran a hand across his tired face, wishing somehow he could make things better.

She’d been in a car accident while working a case, a case that he’d convinced her had been worth it, but once she’d been released from the hospital things hadn’t entirely improved. Sure, they’d sit at home--with the addition of William, the reality of which made his head spin--and she’d smile and be fine. They’d sit across the office from each other working on leads or finishing up paperwork, and she’d glance up at him every now and again and smile, and she’d make some remark before returning to her work. It wasn’t until several months passed, until they’d begun to creep past the awkwardness that came with getting to know the teenage son whose entire life they’d missed, that she even mentioned the headaches.

_It’s nothing, Mulder, I’m fine,_ Scully had said, pinching the bridge of her nose and fanning her face with a file as they sat outside a warehouse, waiting on a suspect to exit the building. She’d chalked it up to stress and work, and pointed out that she hadn’t exactly been eating the best lately. He’d somewhat jokingly bought several cases of water and at least one of practically everything the farmer’s market offered, and they’d both been pleased when William suggested they start a garden. Gardens were something more permanent; they grew roots, and Mulder thought it was a perfect idea. He went to sleep that night thinking of late summer and early fall evenings, digging up carrots or picking tomatoes with their son--their son, he didn’t think he’d ever get used to thinking about it--and planned on picking up supplies the next day.

He ended up rushing Scully to the hospital instead. They’d been talking about something so mundane he could barely remember now, walking down the hallway at the Hoover, when suddenly she leaned against the wall for a second, shutting her eyes. _I’m fine, Mulder,_ she insisted, swearing it was a migraine, right before her knees gave out from under her. It wasn’t until he was clutching her hand in the back of the ambulance that he noticed the trickle of blood from her nose.

Time was a fickle thing, and it hadn’t ever been on their side, had it? The thought echoed through his mind, and he knew it to be truth. They’d just barely begun their romantic relationship when he’d been abducted, and they’d barely gotten to know their son before all too soon he’d left them alone, only for him to return and find William gone. The idea that their son would be returned to them only for Scully to succumb to the disease that haunted them like a ghost for years seemed like a cruel joke.

“Hey,” Scully called, hand clasping out for his across the crisp hospital blanket. She smiled, even as her eyes grew clouded with tears.

“Scully,” he said, his voice eager. He turned his hand over, palm up, and laced their fingers together. He wasn’t sure if the fact her grip seemed weaker than it had before was real or if he was just imagining it. He gestured with his free hand to the space between them. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

She laughed, shaking her head as her hair scratched against the pillow. There were decades worth of worry and memories etched across his face. “Mulder. I’m--”

“You don’t know that you’re fine, Scully, so please don’t say it,” he interjected, momentarily hating himself for it upon seeing the surprise that flashed in her eyes.

She darted her gaze about the room, moving to clutch at her cross pendant with her free hand, only to feel the tug on her IV, a sure reminder of the fact she was lying in a hospital bed and that maybe “fine” wouldn’t describe her at that moment. “Where’s William?” she asked.

“He’s downstairs in the cafeteria with Skinner,” Mulder replied. His eyes locked with hers, and he knew without asking what she was thinking. A few months before, she’d been in the hospital because of the accident, and not too long before that, he’d been clinging to life after the alien virus nearly claimed his life. It had been that incident that catapulted their lives into this strange place, where William was with them and had saved his life, even if he was still coming to terms with what that meant.

“He doesn’t deserve to see another parent withering away in the hospital, Mulder. When the tests come back, if--”

“He’s your son, Scully. Do you really think I could convince him to stay away if it meant he couldn’t see someone he cared about?” Mulder asked. For the days and weeks that followed the virus, he’d found himself staring at William, trying to figure out which of them he more closely resembled. He settled on the fact he was somewhat of a mix, although the blue eyes were undeniably from his mother. “If you hadn’t fainted, what would it have taken you to admit that maybe they weren’t just headaches?”

Scully’s mouth hung open, momentarily taken aback by his accusation, but she knew just as well as he did that she didn’t entirely have any ground to stand on. He was right. “I was afraid. Is that what you want to hear? For so long, Mulder, I’ve wanted exactly what we have. A home to come to at night, our son sleeping right down the hall. We’re just getting to the good part, we’re finally figuring out what we could’ve been figuring out all those years ago. I wanted to believe it was just nothing because I needed it to be nothing. But now that we’re here, I need to accept that maybe--” she paused, tongue darting out to moisten chapped lips. “Maybe I’m not as immortal as some might believe me to be.”

“Yeah,” Mulder replied, laughing it off despite the lump he felt growing in his throat. He needed to keep things lighthearted, otherwise he was afraid of becoming unglued. “You’re still a kickass medical doctor turned FBI Agent, Scully. You’re going to fight whatever this is, and I haven’t figured out how just yet, but so am I.”

“You think they can add that bit to my badge?” she replied. A full minute ticked by and she watched as Mulder sat, drumming his fingers against his knee. He itched to move, to do something, and she was aware that the inability to fix whatever was happening was eating at him, because it was eating at her, too. “We can’t cower yet. If it is--” she paused, her grip on his hand tightening just a bit as she glanced about the room, afraid to voice the word they both feared. “I’ll fight like hell. You know that. And I know you will, too. But Mulder? I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything, Scully,” he said, already nodding his head.

“You can’t go risking your life this time,” she replied, a tear betraying her and slipping down her cheek. “I don’t care if someone offers you some magical cure, I don’t want you nearly getting yourself killed.”

“ _No,_ ” he said, shaking his head this time. He hunched forward in his chair, his shoulders bent forward, vulnerability laced through his voice as he spoke. “That chip that’s embedded in your neck? If I have to risk myself to find another, or something better than that because apparently this one might have a shelf life? I’ll do whatever it takes. You can’t make me promise you not to.”

She arched a brow, surprised at his sudden outburst. They’d saved each other more times than either of them could count, but she cleared her throat, prepared to press the button that she trusted would make him pause. “I can and I will, Mulder, because if you risk your life in a potentially fruitless effort to save mine, William could lose both of us. Do you really want to put him through that, so soon after losing the people that raised him?”

Mulder sat back, staring at a blank spot on the wall, momentarily stunned. Scully bringing William into the conversation wasn’t entirely fair, but she was still right. Had roles been reversed, he’d likely be lying there asking her the same thing. How many nights had he stayed up, blinking into the inky darkness and thinking about the son who now sat several floors below, and wondering what became of him? He couldn’t very well run the risk of leaving him orphaned, although if Scully’s life indeed was at stake, he couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to keep her promise. “You’re not going to die. I won’t let it happen.”

“You really do think you’re a dark wizard, don’t you?” Scully asked. She smiled sadly and tilted her head to the side. Had someone told her even a year ago how quickly her life would change, she wasn’t certain she’d believe them. She’d lose her mother, move back home, and gain her son, all within such a short period of time. The idea that she could wither away, or that Mulder would be forced back down a path of darkness so soon after fighting to regain himself from the depths he’d sunk into seemed almost too much to bear. “If this is cancer,” she said, her voice wavering as she finally forced herself to voice the word she knew was also rattling around his his head. “I’ll fight it with every ounce of strength I have. I’ll do the treatments, I’ll search for a cure. And I know _you_ will, too. But he’ll need you. No matter what happens.”

The possibilities of just what could happen went unspoken, but nevertheless acknowledged, and Mulder gave her hand a squeeze, his fingertips ghosting across her wrist. Her pulse was there, steady and strong, and for that he was grateful. “He’ll need you too, Scully. Who else is supposed to teach him how to fight unbelievable conspiracies with science and reason?”

She shrugged, rubbing his hand with the pad of her thumb and staring up at him through her lashes. “I’d like to think I’ve rubbed off on you at least a little bit over the years.”

“Oh, you have,” Mulder replied, relaxing into his chair. “But you still sound better when you say it. Look better, too.”

“Mulder,” she replied, feeling her cheeks turn a soft pink at his words. That he could make her stomach flutter in such a moment and after all of the years they’d spent together never ceased to amaze her. “When the results come back, it might be nothing. There could be a simple valid explanation. But thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, frowning. The idea that she could thank him when something so unthinkable might be happening seemed laughable.

“For being you,” she replied. His hair had a little more gray, he was a little thicker around the middle, and his face had lines that hadn’t been there at the beginning, but despite all of that he was still the man who’d been chasing down monsters in the dark with her since the start. He’d offered to take the reigns and fight for her without ever being asked time and time again, and it warmed her heart that this time was no different.

“You’re awake!”

They’d been so lost in thought, neither had heard anyone else enter the room until William was gripping the rail on the opposite side of the bed from where Mulder sat. “Where’s Skinner?” Scully asked, glancing past him toward the open door.

“He stepped outside to take a call,” William replied, disregarding thoughts of the man with a wave of his hand. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve felt better,” Scully replied, and with Mulder’s help she pulled herself up into a sitting position as William dragged another chair closer to the bed. She cast a look at both father and son, and had the situation not been so potentially serious, she’d have found their mirrored stances funny. “I’ve also felt worse.”

William smiled with a nod, and was for the moment pleased with her response, blissfully unaware of the full extent of what “worse” had meant. The past few months had brought stories from his parents’ past, but for the most part they’d stuck to weird cases rather than darker and scarier parts of their shared history. He deserved the chance to grow up and experience life a bit more before they even dared to tell him any of that. “Did the doctor say what was going on yet? I know you said I had to go home so someone would be there to watch Dagoo tonight, and I know there’s school tomorrow, but--”

“Not yet,” Scully replied, pressing her hand to his arm to still his movement. She hated that he had to be privy to any of this, and she prayed not for the first time for a good prognosis. To get her child back only to leave him so soon seemed a fate too cruel for even her to bear.

“If you can survive being close to a vampire, you can survive whatever's happening here,” WIlliam said, nodding his head as if his being sure of this was all Scully needed to get better.

“It _wasn’t_ a vampire,” she insisted before turning her head to face Mulder. “And you told him about that?”

Mulder shrugged, sheepish. Across the room, William laughed, and had it not been for the IV attached to Scully’s hand, they’d for a second be like any other family. “It was a vampire and you know it, and hey, he asked if we’d ever seen anything weird. I answered honestly.”

Scully shook her head, her eyes tearing up, this time for a happier reason. “I love you.”

“I’m right here,” William said, worrying his forehead with his hand, pretending to be embarrassed by the display of affection before him.

Scully brushed the hair from his eyes. She wiped away a spot near his mouth that might have been barbecue sauce or ketchup. “I was talking to both of you.”

“Oh,” he replied, lowering his gaze to the bed. It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, and it wasn’t the first time he’d felt an itch to say it back. He’d felt the words on his tongue, even tested them out in the silence of his room a few times, but never when she’d been around to hear him. “I love you, too.”

Scully opened her mouth and closed it, unsure of if she should call attention to his sudden declaration. They’d been working on getting to know one another, at strengthening their relationship. She’d answered questions he had about their shared history and had even sat together once combing through a photo album of baby pictures. The frayed threads of their relationship had slowly been knitted back together, & she hoped they wouldn't be torn apart so soon after getting fixed. “William, I--” she said, but before she could say anything else they were interrupted by the sound of a knock at the door.  
“Doctor Scully,” the man said, clutching a tablet close to his lab coat. “I’ve had a chance to look over your scans. I have your results, if you’re prepared for them.”

Scully glanced at William, briefly considering the idea of asking him to leave the room. He was still so young and had already gone through so much in his life, but the way he sat up straight in his chair, crossing his arms and setting his jaw firm, made her realize there was no point in trying to argue. He was just as much Mulder’s child as he was hers, which meant that trying to protect her or at least be there came with the territory.

Mulder reached out and again grabbed her hand, wanting to offer whatever semblance of reassurance he could.

“Yes,” Scully said, clutching Mulder’s hand tightly in return. She thought about how sure he’d been, insisting they’d fight whatever it was head on together. They’d been down this road before, but a lot of things were different this time around. Maybe everything would be okay and there would be a simple answer, and as the doctor pulled up her file, she prayed that there would be. She nearly jumped as she felt William gingerly gripping her other hand, being mindful of her IV. She cleared her throat and rolled her shoulders. “I’m ready,” she said, feeling a sense of solidarity as she sat tethered between the two men cared about most in the world.


End file.
